Sacrifice
by WeAreShootingStars
Summary: Fear doesn't shut you down, it wakes you up. It makes you realize what you really care for. When Newt and Minho are trapped in the Maze with a Griever cutting off their only way of escape, Newt makes a decision that could impact the entire Glade. He just needs to make it out alive. "The most sublime act is to set another before you..." AU take on how Newt got his limp.
1. Chapter 1

**Rating:** teen –blood/gore & language  
**A/N: **Well, here I am again. As I stated in the summary, (which I suck at btw, but hey! at least you clicked on it!), this is an AU take on how our precious Newt got his limp. After reading the books, I just couldn't picture Newt attempting suicide. It just didn't seem to fit his character... so of course my sadistic imagination had to come up with this. *laughs evilly*

**A/N #2:** none of my betas ever get back to me, so I had a friend "beta" it for me. If you're interested in beta-ing for me, PM me!

**Disclaimer: **All characters belong to James Dashner, not me. There's a reason it's called _FAN_fiction.

[takes place ten months after original Gladers arrived in the Maze.]

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**CHAPTER 1**

"We finally must be goin' mad. It's the only explanation."

Minho sighed and peered at the empty blackness in front of him, trying to make sense of it.

"I told ya it was buggin' weird," Newt whispered next him, also staring into the inky black space.

The boys stood at the edge of a cliff. Beyond the steep drop-off, was nothing. Simply nothing. It was unnatural blackness that began a few feet from the edge of the cliff and continued on for only God knows how long. Neither one could come up with a rational explanation yet, simply because there was none to be found.

The evening prior, Newt had dashed out of the South entrance of the Maze earlier than usual. His face was red from exertion and he nearly collapsed before Alby reached him. After getting the blond Runner some water, the Gladers gathered around him, pestering him with questions. Other than assuring them there was no Griever, Newt shut up and refused to speak to anyone except Minho. Alby tried to get him to talk, but nothing would budge the stubborn kid.

Finally, the rest of the Runners returned at sundown. Newt immediately took the Keeper of the Runners aside. The two held a whispered conversation behind the map room, Newt talking hurriedly and Minho nodding as he listened. By the end of the exchange, the look on the older boy's face was one of both puzzlement and determination.

The two boys immediately packed their backpacks for the next day. Minho called one of the Runner trainees over and told him that he would be taking his square the following morning. The Gladers again tried to get Newt and Minho to talk, but the attempts were futile. Even Alby was refused an answer.

The moment the doors opened the next morning, Newt and Minho slipped into the Maze through the south entrance. Alby found a folded note on his pillow when he woke up.

"Alby,  
We're sorry about all the secrecy. I may have found the end of this bloody Maze. I just didn't want to get the boys' hopes up of it turns out to be nothing. We'll be back by sundown. Tell Frypan we'll be hungry. See you shanks later.  
-Newt  
P.s. Minho says to keep this zipped."

It had taken longer to find from the previous day, considering the Maze changed each night, but at last the boys stood in front of Newt's discovery.

Minho shook his head, an expression of disbelief on his face. "Let's get some rocks and try to see how far down this shuck thing goes."

"Good that," Newt agreed. The two set to work picking loose stones from the Maze walls several yards away. After Minho and Newt collected a good amount, they brought them over to the cliff and sat down, the pile of rocks between them.

One by one, they tossed the stones into the blackness. One by one, each of the stones would be visible for the first twenty or so feet, then completely vanish. Only the rocks dropped within a few feet of the cliff edge continued to be visible until they fell out of sight. Even then, though, none of the stones ever seemed to reach the bottom. Newt and Minho worked in silence, ears straining to hear the faintest noise. Hopes, and nerves, began to wear thin.

Finally, Minho had enough. "This is ridiculous!" He yelled, standing up and hurling a rock into the nothingness. "It's just a shuck black hole that swallows rocks! What's the use of it?!"

"Cool it, slinthead." Newt warned darkly. "Don't go whining to me."

"Well you were the shank who found this place," Minho retorted hotly. "Why'd ya have to get my shucking hopes up?! Here I thought ya said you'd found the end of the Maze!"

Newt shot up, fists clenched. "I bloody said that I found what 'could' be the end of the Maze, but I wasn't sure."

"Well it's not. And now we're back where we started!"

"And where's that?!"

Minho's eyes fell, suddenly silent, then said quietly, "Nothing. Shucking nothing. Still trapped in this shuck Maze. That's where."

Newt sighed, his expression softening, "Look, I know this is disappointing, but yellin' at each other like crazy shanks will not get us closer to finding the real way out."

Silence reigned for several minutes, each boy deep in his own thoughts. Then Minho laughed.

Newt raised his eyebrows, surprised at the sound.

Minho had yet to look up, speaking to the stones at his feet. "We really are slintheads, aren't we?"

"Yeah," Newt agreed.

"But we can't give up so shucking easily." Minho raised his head.

Newt nodded. "Good that."

"I really am a pain in the butt sometimes," Minho joked, trying to put the whole temper episode behind them.

"No more than any of the other shanks down in the Glade," Newt responded in all seriousness. He pulled their backpacks towards him and began to inspect the contents.

Minho ignored Newt's last comment and checked his watch. "Shit, we've got an hour before the gates close. We'd better he-"

_ Click_

Both boys froze instantly.

_ Click. Whrrrr… Click._

Newt slowly stood. The noise behind them sent shivers down their spines. It was a familiar, yet dreaded sound of metal against stone that could only mean one thing: Grievers. Minho and Newt exchanged fearful glances, then slowly turned around. A Griever blocked the entrance of the Maze, its slimy body pulsing and the red lights flickering. The thing didn't move, just sat there. Waiting.

"Do you think the bloody thing's waiting for us to make the first move?" Newt asked under his breath, his eyes never moving from the creature in front of them.

"I don't know," Minho said slowly. He slid his hand down the leg of his pants until he felt his leather sheath. Long fingers wrapped around the knife kept there and carefully withdrew the blade. Minho grasped the knife tightly and glanced to his right. Newt had done the same as he, and was now brandishing his eight inch blade at the Griever. Both boys knew their mere pockets knives would have almost no effect on the monster, but neither would admit the helplessness of their situation.

_Calling for help will be useless_, Newt thought. _No one would hear us..._

"We need to draw it away from the entrance," Newt thought out loud.

"Well thank you captain obvious," Minho replied sarcastically. "How are we gonna do that? The shuck Griever isn't moving."

Newt contemplated the half creature half machine in front of them for a moment, chewing his fingernail. Minho could almost see the wheels turning wildly in his head. Suddenly, Newt straightened up. There was a decisive look on his face, and his next few words froze Minho's blood. "I'll distract the bloody thing. Yo-"

"Shuck no!" Minho yelled, indignant. "You think I w-"

"Shhh!" Newt clapped his hand over his friend's mouth, eyes wide. He jerked his head towards the Griever.

All of Minho's anger dissipated instantly, replaced with icy horror. The Griever was shifting from its spot. Groaning, it rolled forward several feet, then stopped. Its metal arms unfolded with clicks and hisses. Newt looked at Minho sternly, his brown eyes daring him to contradict his plan.

"Go. I'll distract it," he whispered. "Don't worry about me. I'll be right on your tail. You know I'm the fastest Runner."

Minho gulped, then plastered a false mask of bravado to his face and grinned. "Fine," he huffed. "But if I don't see your shuck ass within three minutes, I'm coming back."

"Good that," Newt smiled. Even with Minho's efforts to appear fearless, his eyes were still filled with concern.

Before he could begin to have second thoughts, Newt spun on his heel and ran near the cliff's edge to the opposite end of the clearing.

The Griever immediately retracted its arms into itself and began rolling towards the new prey.

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**Soooo... what do you think? Continue? Dump? Shuttle to Pluto never to be seen again? Let me know by hitting that little button below. ;]**

**-Stars**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Finally! An update! *claps joyfully***

**[Edit: I fixed the ending... thanks AndersDanJij for informing me about my inconsistency. We're all better now! (I hope...o_o)]**

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**CHAPTER 2**

Newt ran, the Griever rolling after him.

It covered ground fast, rolling with a speed that seemed impossible for such a creature. Glancing over his shoulder, Newt saw Minho dash towards the opening into the Maze.

He was only halfway to the entrance when the Griever abruptly halted and changed its focus to the other sprinting teen. In horror, Newt realized his distraction wasn't working. He quickly switched to a different tactic.

"Hey you!" Newt waved his arms wildly at the thing, trying anything to direct its attention away from Minho. "Hey ya klunk face! Over here!" His shouting worked. The Griever stopped, then once again began rolling in his direction.

Newt quickly glimpsed Minho's retreating form turn out of sight in the Maze, and sighed with relief. The feeling didn't last, however. Horrible, animalistic groans rose from the Griever behind him.

Letting forth a burst of speed, Newt ran several more yards, before he stopped and spun around to face the monster. The Griever was now within ten yards.

Nine yards.

Newt's harsh panting and the wild thumping of his heart filled his ears.

Seven yards.

He licked his lips, praying his plan would work.

Five yards away.

Four.

When the Griever was within ten feet, Newt dived sharply to his left. He landed painfully on the stones, and the Griever rolled within six feet of his shoes. Scrambling a moment before getting up, Newt looked behind him.

Based on his few previous confrontations, Grievers were not able to easily change directions once they were rolling fast enough. Usually, this could give a Runner enough time to duck down a couple turns and escape. This Griever, however, must have been a newer version. Once it rolled thirty feet of the fallen Runner, it noticed its prey was gone and abruptly halted. Its red lights flashed menacingly as it searched for the boy.

It found Newt—bent double and breathing hard—and locked focus on him again. The Griever let forth a roar of anger.

The boy glanced up and wiped the sweat from his eyes. "Oh shit."

Adrenaline once again coursed through his veins, giving him renewed strength. Newt bolted for the Maze entrance, the Griever at his heels. He made it in and tried to recall to the route back to the Glade. _'First a left, then a right, then right again..._' The Griever groaned again, closer now. Newt shook his head fiercely, attempting to repress his panic.

_'Think about the path. What's next. It's left again, then another left, no, right..._'

Thoughts had a difficult time connecting. Newt slowed down to a jog at a fork in the path, unable to remember which branch to take. Without warning, the Griever unfolded its metal arms and slashed at the blond Runner with a sharp claw, cutting a red line into his back.

Newt cried out and fell to his hands and knees from the sudden force of the blow. He clenched his teeth in pain, and pushed himself up, drawing his knife from its sheath. He spun and confronted the creature.

The thing reared up, metal arms poised menacingly. Newt winced and swallowed, his mouth suddenly dry. There was no escape of the pure terror that now washed over him in waves.

He knew it. It was over for him. He only hoped that Minho had made it safely to the Glade. God, he prayed he wouldn't be a bloody idiot and come looking for him.

Minho needed to stay and keep the peace between the Gladers when he was gone.

Dead.

Killed.

The thought sent shivers down his spine. It might be hopeless, but he wouldn't die like a coward. He would go down fighting. Fighting against whoever were the ones who put him here and all their shuck plans. Newt brandished his knife at the monster, breathing heavily as the Griever barreled towards him. He would fight hard.

Like a Glader.

Like a man.

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**Sorry that this chapter is so short though... damn stupid writer's block. The muse bunny has been quivering in a corner as I rush madly around with VBS and camps and classes and another camp and an upcoming wedding (not mine) and, well, you get the point...**

***sigh***

**my life is too busy...**

**If you have certain ideas you want me to take, PLEASE let me know! ****_Reviewing is really not that hard, and will not take long, _****I swear. All ya gotta do is hit that little gray button down there... ;]**

**More reviews means longer chapters!**


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